i'll see you around
by neonrocks
Summary: He kinda likes her.  A collection of oneshots.
1. fritter and waste the hours

**disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**A/N: **This is a collection of oneshots, some related, some not. This part is a reposted story from an old penname. I wrote this in season one, before the back 9 episodes, when Jesse was just a rumor, so it's pretty much AU. Rated T for language.

**fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way**

So he has laryngitis. Ordinarily, he'd welcome the loss of his voice because it'd mean he wouldn't have to go to school for a few days and his mother couldn't get on his case about it. And no school means he wouldn't have to face Finn or Quinn, which he'd consider a blessing, since Quinn punched him in the 'nads (apparently, pregnant woman do sometimes wear different shoes because they can't see their feet, which he totally thought was some TV myth, so he may or may not have laughed at her) and Finn is still firmly in _I-will-beat-you-face-in-if-you-look-at-me _mode. So yeah, he's pretty happy for a few days of seclusion.

Or he _was_ pretty happy, at least when he woke up at noon and played a few hours of Halo on his 360. And then when he watched two and a half hours of Transformers beating the shit out of each other while Megan Fox ran around in slow motion. And then again when he ate his fifth bowl of ice cream in less than two hours. And he was supremely happy when he got to do it all again the next day (substituting Terminator 2 for Transformers, but the same principle of asses being kicked while running away from large explosions remains).

He's in the kitchen getting his eighth Jell-o cup for the day, since ice cream got old pretty quickly when there's a knock on his door. He glances up at the clock and figures it's his little sister coming home from school, so he decides to ignore it for at least three minutes (he's just teaching her not to forget her keys, _really_) and he's just about to settle down into his couch for Death Race (people in cars beating the shit out of each other) when there's another, more forceful knock on the door. He wishes he had his voice so he could just yell at the little hellbeast to pick the lock or break the window or _something_ because what would she have done if he weren't home? He pushes himself off the couch instead, because he doesn't think his mother would appreciate another broken window (he'd tried to teach the cretin how to hit a home run last summer, which looking back was a horrible idea) and swings the door open, ready to tell her that she knows how to pick the lock because he'd taught her himself.

He's forced to swallow those words, though, because instead of his sister, it's Rachel Berry standing in his doorway, wearing some frilled monstrosity he just knows she loves.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Rachel?" He manages to croak out.

"Good afternoon to you as well, Noah," she fixes him with a look he just knows means _you have no manners_ before launching into her speech, "You haven't been in school for the past two days, and when Mr. Schuester mentioned that you were feeling ill, I though I might stop by to gauge the level of your illness. With Regionals coming up in two weeks, it's absolutely imperative that all the members of New Directions are in top shape."

Of course, he manages to lose his voice two weeks before Regionals. _Of course._ And he's 95% positive that Rachel Berry would bathe in the blood of virgins if it meant winning, so he can't say he's entirely surprised she's standing in his doorway.

"Can I come in?" She asks him, and that's when he realizes they're still standing at his doorstep. He moves aside so she can step in, and he's about to ask her what the hell she's doing in his house when she makes a beeline for the kitchen, so he follows her wordlessly, only to find her pulling out all sorts of Tupperware containers from a bright pink tote he'd somehow missed when he opened the door. He considers putting them all back in her bag and pushing her out the door, but he's actually kind of hungry, seeing as he's ignored his mother's suggestion of heating up some canned soup and taken to shoveling down ice cream and Jell-o instead. So he sits at the counter to watch her instead.

"Now," she begins, as she rummages through his kitchen for a bowl and a ladle, "based on the numerous plastic cups in the trash and the bowls in the sink, I'm assuming you have been consuming sweets and other foods that will not make you feel better. Which is why I've brought you some soup. I expect you to eat it all because your presence is required at glee, as we need to rehearse for our performance next Saturday." She places the bowl in front of him, followed by a spoon, then puts her hands on her hips to watch him, which freaks him out, if he's perfectly honest. See, he can handle chicks checking him out, because he knows he's hot shit, but she's just staring at him. And since he's never been one for subtlety, he asks her point blank.

"Why the fuck are you staring at me?" He says, mouth full of vegetables. He thinks he can taste a carrot in there.

"Don't talk and eat your food, Noah."

He swallows, "Answer the question, Rachel."

She rolls her eyes and draws in a deep breath, "I'm staring because I'm waiting for you to eat your food. And I would greatly appreciate it if you would eat your food because then you could come back to rehearsals, and then we'll be prepared for Regionals and we'll beat Vocal Adrenaline. I am not going to lose because you decided to get sick. Have I answered the question to your satisfaction?"

He nods and gives her a what he knows is a shit-eating grin before taking the spoon and eating some of her soup. It's not half bad, or maybe he hadn't realized just how hungry he was, and he annihilates the soup in about four minutes. He's about to grab the Tupperware to serve himself some more, but Rachel's already spooning some more into his bowl, and he's pretty sure he's hit the jackpot, because there is a hot girl in his kitchen serving him food without him asking and she's not expecting him to talk, since he really can't. He'd totally high-five himself if it didn't make him look like a dumbass.

And then he remembers that the hot girl in his kitchen is a total psychopath, because she's _Rachel Fucking Berry_ and she's talking to him again. "I'm hoping this isn't a chronic case of laryngitis, because that would take weeks to heal and we don't have that sort of time, and I'd rather not have to replace you with Jacob again, because he's quite the abhorrent individual and you, on the other hand, are a strong performer and your voice is not easily replaceable-"

"Rachel," he says, effectively shutting her up, "stop."

"I apologize for my excessive rambling. I'm just worried that your sudden bout of illness will affect our performance at Regionals, and after the debacle concerning a certain male lead from Carmel and myself, I would greatly appreciate coming out on top of them."

He actually laughs, and when he looks at her face, she simultaneously looks like he's kicked her puppy and insulted Patti LuPone, so he's torn between apologizing and protecting his 'nads from another attack akin to Quinn's earlier in the week, but he ultimately chooses neither. He finishes the last of his second bowl of soup and tosses the bowl into the sink with all the others.

"Relax, Rachel. We'll be fine. Carmel can't handle the Puckasaurus," he says, which gets her laughing. She shakes her head and starts cleaning up the bowls and plastic containers, and this time, he does high-five himself when she turns her back to do the dishes (she says something about getting better more quickly in sanitary conditions, but he's back on the couch in roughly eight seconds, and starts his movie in roughly twelve, so she may as well be talking to the wind). He's thinking she'll just let herself out when she's finished so he jumps when he hears her talking again.

"Is that Tyrese?"

And apparently, that's enough to make her sit down and watch the movie.

ooooo

He should've expected her to talk through the entire thing, so he's actually more annoyed with himself for not kicking her out when he had the chance. All he had to say was "no" when she asked her question, but he'd nodded his head instead; he regretted it almost instantly (Besides, she'd probably have gotten on his case about how it's racist to imply that all black men look the same or something. She's crazy like that, and he knows she's got a black dad).

"I don't know why he keeps getting movie offers. Tyrese is a horrible actor. He should have stuck strictly to modeling because as long as he's not talking, I find him enjoyable."

"This movie is terribly violent. Was it really necessary to show that poor guy getting run over by the car?"

"This is absurd. Can those cars even run with that much artillery on them?

"You know, if they keep decapitating people, the novelty is lost. I mean, I'm no longer shocked by it."

"That was an extremely obtuse movie. The ending was predictable, the acting was sub-par and the entire concept was ridiculous. Prison inmates racing to the death for a corrupt warden to broadcast on television? Who writes this? Although it was sweet that he was reunited with his daughter."

"You didn't have to stay, you know," he says, "you were free to leave at any time. But I know you really liked it."

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt your movie to let you know I was leaving," she says back, rather unconvincingly, "So now, that it's over, I'll be taking my leave," she gets up, quickly grabbing her coat and throwing it over her shoulders, "I've left soup in the refrigerator and you need to take some medicine, which I've also left on the kitchen counter for you. Take it and come to school tomorrow or I'll stop by again with my own set of movies."

"Whatever," he waves half-heartedly as she closes the door behind her.

But he totally does take the medicine, because she's crazy enough to come to his house every day until he gets better, probably getting sick herself and brutally murdering him for not being able to sing at Regionals. And the pills totally knock him out twenty minutes after she leaves, which sucks, since he was looking forward to a few hours of Call of Duty before going to bed, but when he wakes up in the morning (somehow in his bed and almost twelve hours later) he can talk without sounding like he's swallowed sandpaper. His mother deems him well enough for school, so he ends up going, fifteen minutes into first period.

And two weeks later, when they place second at Regionals, behind Vocal Adrenaline, he slashes their male lead's tires in the parking lot while everyone is too busy congratulating them on their 5000th straight win and makes sure to send Rachel a picture of his handiwork.


	2. and she could really

**disclaimer:** Still own nothing.

**A/N:** AU from season one. This is a direct continuation of _fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way._ Rated T for language.

**and she could really rip your world apart**

He's going to straight up _murder_ her ass.

No, really.

Or at least cause her a significant amount of pain (she's the reason he got better so quickly, so he figures he should spare her life - consider them even), because she's ruined the perfect balance he had struck between his home life and his school life. He's spent the past decade of his sixteen years on Earth perfecting that shit, and it only took her one afternoon to destroy his handwork.

He's taking it back. He's straight up murdering her. She's sitting at his kitchen table giggling over fuck knows with his mother. She backed him into that metaphorical corner. He has no choice.

He'd figured there was an unspoken agreement that neither of them would ever mention her bringing him soup and spending an afternoon watching crappy movies. But of course she'd be the type of person to label her Tupperware containers, complete with gold stars (he didn't even _know_ they made gold sharpie markers) and his mother would choose that day to clean out the leftovers in the refrigerator (so what if it was her day off). He really should've gotten it to her the day he went back to school, but he totally forgot about it, and now it's turned into some sort of science experiment that he'd love to take to Mr. Donaldson in the Bio lab to test.

ooooo

He's in the living room debating the finer points of the proper escape plan in the event of a zombie apocalypse with his sister (she's just not understanding how a bicycle would be useful over a car in the long run because it needs no gas. He's not saying _no_ car; he just saying options are your friend when there are zombies about) when he hears her voice from the kitchen.

"Noah, honey, whose Tupperware is this?"

And see, it's just like his mother to ask him who's it is when he _knows_ Rachel wrote her name in her loopy cursive writing in like, four separate places. So he figures he'll downplay it and be as nonchalant as possible, "it's Rachel's from glee club. She dropped some food off back when I was sick," he yells back to the kitchen.

"Rachel from glee club...have I met her before?" She yells back.

He rolls his eyes, avoiding the look his sister is giving him. That little punk lives for his mom embarrassing him. Honestly, he can't wait for her to turn sixteen, because he's going to make her life a living hell. He really doesn't care that he'll be like, twenty-one and supposed to be over that shit. She deserves the hell he's going to give her.

He runs his hand over his head, takes a deep breath and responds, "Ma, you've known her since we were like, six. She was always at the JCC and she teaches a dance class for little kids there or something like that." Why the fuck he knows all this, he'll never know. He blames it on the fact that Rachel just kinda buries herself in your life and never lets you go. Or something.

"Hm, I'd like to meet her again," aaaaaand there it is. His careful separation of home and school is over, "I'd like to thank her properly for taking care of my baby."

He groans.

ooooo

He finds her pulling out some books from her locker the next morning at school. She's turned around, so he takes the opportunity to box her in with both his arms before leaning in close. She jumps when he places his arms on both sides of her, but relaxes when she recognizes it's him.

"I'm going to kill you," he says into her ear.

"Honestly, Noah, it's amazing that girls like you when you're such a charmer. 'I'm going to kill you?' You should be thankful I'm not reporting you for threatening me at my locker," she pushes past him and starts marching down the hallway to either Geometry or History, based on the books in her hands. He turns quickly and starts following her down the hallway.

"Ok, let me make myself a bit more clear: my mother found your Tupperware. My mother wants to meet you. My mother is a crazy psychopath who will begin planning our wedding the second you step into my house. My mother already has baby names picked out and I'm sorry, but _no_, I will not be naming my first-born son Ezra."

"But Ezra is a good, Hebrew name," Rachel says weakly.

"Ok, missing the point here, Rach," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "which is that my mother? Is a lunatic."

"I'm sure she's a lovely woman, Noah," Rachel says, stopping in front of the Geometry classroom, "and I would love to meet her."

"Fuck. I was hoping you'd say no."

"It's incredibly rude to turn down an invitation, Noah," she fixes him with a glare he knows she saves for when people are being incredibly dense, "did you honestly think I would say no?"

"Nope. I was pretty sure you'd say yes," he says, "so be at my house around 5:30. She's making eggplant lasagna. I told her no meat."

He can't help but smile at the huge smile Rachel gives him, like he's the man for remembering she's a vegetarian, "I'll be there at 5:30 sharp. See you tonight, Noah," she says, disappearing through the door. Puck turns back down the hallway, away from whatever class he's supposed to have, and meets Matt and Mike for their daily trip to the Sev down the street.

ooooo

Puck should've figured that 5:30 in Rachel Berry Land meants 5:20 with a huge plate of homemade seven layer cookie bars. He's playing some CoD with his sister (zombie mode, because one way or another, he is going to have her prepared), when the doorbell rings and he hears his mother let Rachel into the house. He knows he should stand up and greet her, but there's no way he's letting Sarah get the drop on him, so he settles for a quick "Hey Rach," before devoting his full attention back to the game.

Apparently that was the wrong move, because it takes five seconds for his mother to chastise him, ten for her to lead Rachel into the kitchen where the food is and fifteen for them to be giggling over something.

Seriously, giggling.

God hates him.

He gets killed by a zombie when Sarah makes a mistake and overshoots a grenade, so he figures it's as good a time as any to take a food break. He's not prepared for the sight of Rachel Berry sitting next to his mother at their kitchen table, giggling over lord knows what.

He pulls a soda from the fridge and pops it open, taking a big swig from the can, "It's nice to see you two getting along so well," he says, and neither woman understands the sarcasm, because they're both looking at him with beaming smiles.

"Rachel was just telling me about her dance class at the JCC. Noah, you should help out more often down there too," his mother says, and even though he's avoiding eye contact, he can feel her stare boring a hole in him.

He rolls his eyes again, and sits down in his usual spot before grabbing a slice of the garlic bread his mother had laid out in preparation for dinner. His mother seems to get the idea and stands up, walking to the oven and pulling out the lasagna that she had been keeping warm, though she makes sure to swat him on the head, and he's pretty sure he heard her say, "rude" as she walked past him.

Whatever. He's a growing boy and needs all the food he can get.

ooooo

He walks Rachel to her car after dinner and waits till his mother is out of earshot to say anything, "You realize I have to kill you now, right?"

She chuckles, "Honestly, Noah, you're mother is a lovely woman. A little overbearing, but lovely nonetheless."

He's silent for a moment, "You do realize she's mentally sizing you for a wedding dress right? Woman's nuts," he throws up his hands to emphasize his point, "Don't turn around too quickly, but I will bet you anything she's watching through the window."

"Seriously, Noah," she glances back towards the house and spots a figure in the window pretending not too look, "Ok you have a point. She's at the window. But that doesn't mean anything."

"Are you shitting me? Don't come crying to me when she corners you at the supermarket or some shit."

She pulls open her car door and sets one foot in the car before turning back to look at him, "Don't let her think we're dating," she says sternly, "I swear if you let her believe that lie, I'll hunt you down myself."

He actually laughs at her, "I can't promise she'll believe me, but ok, Rach. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

She waves a goodbye, then puts her car in reverse and pulls out into the street. He waits until she rounds the corner to go back into his house.


End file.
